


An Apple for the Teacher

by ukulelefoot



Category: Home Fires (UK TV)
Genre: Canon Lesbian Character, F/F, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukulelefoot/pseuds/ukulelefoot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Teresa shakes Nick's hand and pretty much ignores all subsequent canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Apple for the Teacher

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Biscay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biscay/gifts).



> thank you for being super encouraging and a great person to yell about this stupid couple with :)

Teresa watches the car until it turns a corner and heaves a sigh of – what? Relief? Despair? She makes her way back to the house, arms folded across her chest. A shaggy, expectant face greets her when she gets inside and she ruffles Boris’ hair.

“I shook his hand,” Teresa almost laughs, as if she can’t quite believe she did it.

“What?” Alison appears from the kitchen and leans against the doorframe.

“Nick. He went to kiss me and I shook his hand.” Teresa watches as Alison comes to stand in front of her, pausing momentarily, and wordlessly take her hand to lead her into the sitting room.

“I can’t do it, Alison,” Teresa whispers once they reach the settee. “I just can’t.”

Tears threaten to spill over and Alison brings her close, stroking her hair and rocking her slowly. It’s enough for Teresa to break down and sob into Alison’s shoulder.

Teresa pulls back when she’s regained a little composure, make-up smudged.

“Sorry.”

She’s surprised when Alison lets out a laugh.

“There you go with your apologising again! You really don’t have to. I’m your friend. If you can’t cry into my shoulder and make my cardigan damp, what good am I?”

“Oh, God! I hope it doesn’t stain.” She inspects Alison’s shoulder and rubs at what is possibly a mix of mascara and lipstick. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey!” Alison berates Teresa gently, as she takes her hand from its ministrations and brings it to her lap. “Of course it won’t stain, silly.”

A comfortable silence settles and they snuggle into the back of the settee. Boris obviously feels left out of the affection and jumps up onto their laps, making them laugh.

“Have you got problems with the ladies, eh?” Teresa jokes, stroking an ear. He lets out a quiet bark and rests his head on Alison’s chest.

“Sometimes I think it’s silly that people like us have to hide.” Alison absent-mindedly plays with Boris’ fur as it dawns on Teresa what she just heard.

“You-” She cuts herself off, not wanting to assume anything.

“I loved George. I really did.” Teresa stays silent. She daren’t say a word lest she spooks Alison.

“I can’t say I’ve never thought about it,” Alison states. “I always ignored it because I didn’t know it was something that happened.” She turns to look at Teresa. “Then you told me about Connie… It all made sense.”

“Oh, Alison.” Their hands meet on the gentle rise and fall of Boris’ ribs and Teresa strokes a finger across Alison’s knuckles.

The moment passes when Teresa spots the time and almost jumps up from the settee.

“The WI is starting any minute, come on!” Teresa goes to put on her coat and when Alison doesn’t follow, she gives her a questioning look.

“I’m going to the factory, there’s something I have to do.” She gives Teresa a sad smile. “Have fun.”

Teresa dashes out of the house and glances back to see Alison watching through the window as she cycles away.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alison’s confession wasn’t intended to change anything about their relationship, but change was inevitable.

Throughout the summer, their interactions, which have always hummed with something more than just platonic appreciation, start to intensify. Eyes meet more frequently and hold each other for longer. Physical contact becomes increasingly commonplace – the lack of that respectful gap between them when sat on the settee, a brief hand on shoulder accompanying a late-night mug of cocoa, the touching of fingertips on the table at tea, a kiss on the cheek in moments of joy.

In one of these moments of joy, while clearing away breakfast in the kitchen, the kiss on the cheek from Alison lands nearer Teresa’s lips than planned. The joy disappears and is replaced with something to which neither can put a name. Their hands instinctively find each other. Teresa doesn’t think it was possible for Alison’s eyes to get any bigger and rounder than they usually are, but they do.

They stay still, faces inches apart, for a moment. Then Alison closes her eyes and slowly leans forward to settle her forehead on the bridge of Teresa’s nose.

Their breaths mingle as they stand still, both waiting for the other to panic and say it’s a mistake. But neither does.

It’s far too soon when Teresa shifts slightly, not wanting to break contact.

“Alison,” she whispers, almost inaudibly.

“You have to go to school.” Alison’s voice is resigned and sad. She takes her time to pull away from Teresa, gently clasped hands the last to part, and looks downwards.

Teresa tears her eyes away and goes to get her things for school. Before heading out, she comes back to Alison, who hasn’t moved, and takes her hand again. When Alison finally meets her eyes, Teresa gives her a small yet reassuring smile.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” she says quietly, and Alison nods. Teresa purposefully presses a kiss to Alison’s temple and leaves.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Neither can focus all day. They attempt to distract themselves with children and numbers respectively. It doesn’t work.

Teresa hurries her protégés out of the classroom to set them free or hand them over to their parents and taps her leg impatiently when one child’s mother is a few minutes late. She cuts that conversation short, giving a feeble excuse about having somewhere to be, and collects her belongings.

It’s only when Alison’s house comes into view – Alison’s? Theirs? – that she suddenly stops. She has no idea what to say, how to approach this conversation. She hopes Alison has had more time to think about it.

Alison sits on the sofa with Boris. She gave up trying to work a few hours ago after having little success all morning. Instead, she’s been replaying her actions over and over and fretting that she’s ruined everything. Ruined her friendship with Teresa, ruined the comfortable cohabitation into which they’d so easily settled.

She jumps when Teresa opens the door, making Boris bark.

“Shush, Boris. It’s only-” She trails off when she realises she can’t hear any movement. “Teresa?” Encouraging the dog off of her lap, she goes to the doorway of the sitting room and finds Teresa leaning against the front door, still in her coat with her lunch box abandoned at the bottom of the stairs.

Teresa looks expectant as Alison walks towards her, only to feel touched when, instead of the hug she was hoping for, Alison reaches for Teresa’s shoulders and pushes her coat down her arms. She carefully hangs it up and picks up Teresa’s lunch box just before Boris manages to get his paws on any crumbs. She takes it into the kitchen, takes a deep breath, then makes her way back to the sitting room, catching Teresa’s hand on the way.

Sat on the settee, Alison stares at Teresa for a while as she tries to gauge the situation. Teresa tries to express everything through her eyes and hopes she doesn’t look vaguely manic in doing so. She’s letting Alison take the lead with this.

Alison considers her options – brush it off as a moment of madness, tell Teresa that she just can’t do it, continue.

Yes, continue.

She acts before she loses her nerve, pushing her lips against Teresa’s. She’d meant for it to be just a quick, chaste peck, but she’s taken that step now and there’s no going back. She doesn’t want to go back. Teresa is safe and warm and most definitely kissing her too.

They part just enough to get each other into focus and Teresa can’t help the huge grin that’s spread across her face, which is soon mirrored by Alison. Boris nudges Teresa’s knee and Alison chastises him, a blush rising in her cheeks. Teresa takes her hand and links their fingers. She thinks there’s only one thing that can make this moment more perfect.

“Tea?”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They never talk about it. It just happens. Touches, kisses, lovemaking. The unspoken says more than words ever could. But the I-love-yous that seem to make their way into the most intimate of moments are welcome and more than enough.


End file.
